Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5)(26)

I felt superfluous, so I left the hotel in Cassandra’s capable hands and struck out across the parking lot to Barry’s bar. It was open, going full steam under the dusky sky, and Barry was taking a delivery through the back door.

I’d never seen much expressiveness in Barry other than a scowl or careful neutrality, but when he saw me, his craggy face lit up with gladness.

“Janet! Heard you finally woke up. You all right?”

“A little shaky, but not bad,” I said. “Thanks.”

The relief in Barry’s eyes was clear. “We were seriously worried. Mick, man … I thought he was going to die. He’s really into you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I shrugged. “Well, I’m okay.”

Barry looked embarrassed now. He wasn’t good with outpouring of emotions. “So what’s up? Want a beer? On the house.”

I doubted I should drink after being out for two weeks, so I declined. I wasn’t much good with alcohol at the best of times. “Can I take a look around inside? I want to go over the sort-of scene of the crime.”

“Sure, but nothing happened after you and Mick followed those guys that night,” Barry said. He waited until the deliveryman went past with a dolly stacked with crates of beer, then ushered me inside through the back door. “It’s been quiet—well, as quiet as my regulars ever are.”

The barroom was full, the place fairly dark. Guys were drinking, talking, playing pool, or with arms around women who were as tough as they were. I scanned the room. I was looking for auras—unusual ones, demon ones. Anything out of place.

I found nothing. Everyone here was human, no doubt. I recognized most of them as regulars, and any newcomers were human, no hint of supernatural in them. I’d thought the same about Monica and John, of course.

I pondered our encounter with them. Why had the demons appeared here at the bar, and why had Monica and John led us to the ambush at the motel? They’d invited us there, then seemed unconcerned when we didn’t want to go. How could they be certain we’d follow them later? Had Mick and I truly been the target, or had we showed up to get in the way of something else?

And where were Monica and John now? According to Mick they’d disappeared after the demons had been driven back. If they were demon slaves, they might have taken off, free once their masters were dead. Or headed out to find new masters—those enslaved by demons sometimes gave themselves by choice in return for power, protection, wealth, whatever the demon promised.

Or did they work for Emmett, tasked by him to get Mick and me to Flat Mesa to be finished off? Then again, Ansel had said all had been quiet, an unusual state of affairs at my hotel.

I wasn’t surprised the demons hadn’t returned to the bar. I smelled the clean tang of protective magic, which meant Mick and Cassandra had come over here to set wards. I lingered in the area where the demons had been, but sensed nothing of them. Cassandra and Mick had done a good job cleaning the place.

I didn’t like demons hanging around my territory, though. Those demons had been earth born, not from the netherworld of Beneath. Beneath was a different place, older than earth, with magics from before humans walked on this world. Mick was earth born, as was my Grandmother’s shaman ancestors.

The bar seemed to be secure. I departed, saying my good-byes to Barry. He’d become stone-faced again but gave me a cordial enough farewell.

I emerged into the parking lot at the same time a pickup swung in from the highway. Instead of heading up the new paved drive to the front door, where guests unloaded their bags, the truck drove around to the back, dust rising behind it into the twilight.

I’d recognized the pickup as it pulled past the bar. I stifled a groan as I quickened my pace across the dirt lot.

My fast walk became a jog as the truck halted and people began to pile out. First was the lithe form of Gabrielle, who leapt over the side of the pickup’s bed and raced toward me, her arms open.

“Janet! I was so worried about you!”

From the passenger side of the cab came the unmistakable form of my grandmother, her walking stick planted on the ground, her long skirts swirling. I should have known she wouldn’t buy Mick’s claim that all was well.

The greatest shock came when my father, Pete Begay, climbed from the driver’s side of the cab and then walked around to help his fiancée, Gina, descend.





Chapter Ten

My father leaving the Dinetah was an event. When I’d been growing up, a drive with him to Chinle—about fifteen miles from Many Farms—had been an important outing. I knew that now my father and Gina often went to Farmington, where her family lived, but my dad rarely, rarely left the lands of his home.